Crime and Punishment

Part 1

You hate waiting, especially in lobbies with the fluorescent lights and elevator music. It's been a long enough day as is, and now you've been drug to the museum over some nonsense you're sure.

You cut your eyes at the vampire standing a few feet from you, a bored expression on his face as he typed on his phone. He looks more like a businessman than the king of the undead, black coat with the collar flipped, tie the color of blood.

"You look nice today," you say after a moment, your voice full of sarcasm. "Drink enough virgins dry? You have a little color in your cheeks."

Cerulli glances at you. "I can see the sacrifice of children has done nothing for your personality."

You snort, crossing your arms as you stand beside him.

You're a witch, a snooty, brazen one at that. You lead the strongest coven that has ever graced the world, and therefore, you're sort of the wiccan leader. Your kind looks up to you for advice and leadership, which you've always been rather reluctant to give; you didn't exactly want to be the boss, but it sort of happened.

Cerulli is the vampire king; tall, dark, and handsome, he looks like he stepped right out of a Dracula movie.

You're not sure how old he is, you've never asked, but his mannerisms remind you of someone from the eighteen hundreds. You know he only became the king after his creator died, passing the unfortunate title off to him. He's always so cold, unreachable, it's like you're talking to a brick wall most times.

But then there are other moments when those hazel eyes of his seem so soft, so... human.

But he's about as human as a bear is.

"So, to what do I owe the misfortune of being in your presence?" You say after a moment, glancing over at him beneath black lashes. You don't dress like a typical witch leader, Cerulli will give you that. Your hair is long and loose, you wear many bracelets, but you don't wear flowing skirts or walk around burning sage; he's seen you most often in combat boots and clothing fit more for a rock concert. How you've been successfully leading anyone for the past thirty years is beyond him, but somehow you seem to make it work.

He knew your mother, Clarissa, and he respected her. She built the coven you now rule from nothing, finding stray witches and building bonds with them. She was a people person, full of laughter and sunshine, where you're like a beam of darkness bouncing off the walls. No one knows who your father is, not even you do he supposes, and Cerulli thinks the poor man probably got off easy escaping while he had the chance.

"Charles called a meeting for us, obviously." Cerulli responds, checking his silver cuff links. His black hair is slicked back, revealing the unnatural paleness of his skin, only made more obvious by the ink coursing it. He's always dressed so sophisticated, you look out of place standing beside him in his immaculate suit and tie, spikes jutting out the many piercings in his ears.

You wonder what he was like as a human.

"Charles never calls us in together, though. What do you think is happening?" You respect Cerulli, he's smart and conniving --- the only disappointment in your mind is that he's the stereotypical brooding, dark vampire and has absolutely no personality! He could like kittens, or enjoy knitting, or something interesting! Instead, you're fairly certain he lives in a cave with bats hanging from the ceiling, skulls and other bones skittered about and maybe a harem of enthralled groupies in chains for aesthetic.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here," he responds coolly, arching one black brow down at you. Doesn't help the bastard is so tall, he towers over everyone. You don't like him glowering down at you all the time, but even in the most tolerable heels you can't reach his height.